


Fighting Back

by roguefireangel (geekns)



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Post-Episode: s01e22 And Jesus Brought a Casserole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-12
Updated: 2002-02-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekns/pseuds/roguefireangel
Summary: Ponderings about how Max and Logan felt after the events of AJBAC.





	Fighting Back

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Dark Angel belongs to Cameron, Eglee, and Fox, but they don't always tell the whole story, so i'm going to do it for them.
> 
> Note: My first Dark Angel fanfic, and last in a way because my PC ate my second (chapter) fic before i could post it and i gave up on trying to recover or rewrite it.

I never thought I'd lose her.  She always seemed invincible somehow:  like nothing could ever hurt her.  She's gotten me out of more scrapes than I can remember... funny how I'd forgotten the ones that I got her out of myself.  But then, maybe I didn't forget:  maybe I chose not to remember.  I thought it would be easier this way.  You don't know how hard it is:  watching her ride off into the night, wondering if she'll ever come back.  So you try not to think about it.

A part of me wants to go with her, longs for the days when I wasn't stuck in this chair:  even with my new "legs," she's still faster and stronger than I'll ever be.  I have to remind myself that no matter how much she tries to act tough, deep down she's still as scarred and vulnerable as the rest of us.  I think that's why I fell for her so hard, because no matter how many times she outsmarts death, she still needs someone to take care of her.  She acts like everything's no big deal, tries to hide it, but she needs me just as much as I need her:  maybe more.

I had to let her go that night.  I thought we had all the time in the world.  Even thought we didn't, we had to do it, because she was right:  we couldn't hide forever, we had to fight while we still could.  She promised she'd come back, and I knew that there wasn't any way for her to know that she would for sure, but it didn't matter:  she would try her hardest, and that was enough.  She did try, believe me she did; it was just that she had to go back and save her sister, I understand that.

And then I heard the shots.  I ran into the woods, had to find her:  I didn't care if they killed me, I just had to know that she would be safe.  When I found her she was too weak to get up.  I can still see the blood... so much blood.  I had to get her to a doctor.  She was already saying her goodbyes, and I wasn't ready for that.  I hung on every word, wept when she lost consciousness.  I called her name over and over, but it was too late.  I knew that:  even when I tried to pick her up, I cursed the bullet in my back, the exoskeleton that wouldn't work the way I needed it to, my legs that weren't strong enough.  I couldn't leave her, had to get her help, even if that meant going back into the mouth of the lion.

Lydecker saved me:  I think that he understood somehow, but that didn't make me any happier about it when I woke up.  My head hurt like hell:  my heart hurt even more.  He took me home, but that only made me think of her even more.  The candles were still there, the wineglasses that hadn't been cleared, and I just sat there, staring at nothing, surrounded by memories of her.  The sun went up, the sun went down, I didn't care...  It hurt too much.  It hurt too much to move, hurt too much to even breathe.  All I knew was that one night:  it kept playing over and over in my head.  I heard the shots, was running to find her.  Running, running, but it didn't change anything:  she was gone.  There wasn't a thing that I could have done.

Sometimes I would remember other things, like the way she used to smile at me, saunter past me with that gleam in her eye.  I could remember the way that she used to act like she didn't care, but secretly she knew that helping others was all that she could do, that it would make her happy and somehow it would redeem her soul.  I remember the way the candlelight would glisten in her hair, how we could talk for hours on end, and how her laughter was more intoxicating than the wine we would drink after dinner.

I still don't know how long I sat there.  All I could think of how precious the time we had had together was, how it had been wasted.  I should have said something sooner, should have been there to protect her, but I didn't, and wasn't, and now it's too late.  I let her down that night, and now we've both paid the price:  I never told her that I loved her.  
   
   
 

"Fight them, Maxie: promise me you'll fight them."

  
   
   
   
It's stopped now, but I can still hear it.  She thought it would break me:  it almost did.  Laying there for days on end, unable to even move, my only reality was that one sound:  the repeating tone that all of us know somehow, are afraid that one day we'll hear when a loved one is laid out before us, even more afraid that then it will stop.  I've felt that before, sitting next to Logan's bed, waiting for him to wake up:  that wasn't what I was afraid of anymore.  I was afraid that it  _wouldn't_  stop, that I would be condemned to live out the rest of my days in that bed, unable to escape that sound, the constant reminder of what it meant.  Zack... dead.

It was worse at night.  I couldn't stop the nightmares, the repeating sound was there, even then.  But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stay awake.  I tried to, believe me I did, but they'd drug me when they had to:  I needed the sleep to recover.  So I slept.  I fought it, but in the end it was my salvation.  His voice came to me in my sleep, drowning out everything else:  that's how I remembered...

"Fight them, Maxie," Zack told me.  "Promise me you'll fight them."  I can still hear his voice:  "X-5 599:  I have a heart for you."  The shot encompasses me, and then there's nothing:  nothing but the tone that repeats over and over again.

I've had a lot to think about since that night.  I still don't know why he did it:  it doesn't make any sense.  He was our leader, he should have gotten better so he could escape and take care of the others...  But he didn't.  He came back for me the night of the Escape, he's kept looking out for me ever since:  even when he didn't think it was safe to stay in one place.  He let me go when I had to go back to Logan (not that he could have stopped me), kept helping me fight back...  And now he's given his life for mine:  my brother.

That's why it almost broke me; that's why she almost won.  For a long time, I didn't want to fight it:  I just wanted to die.  And then I remembered Zack's voice:  "Fight them Maxie...  Promise me you'll fight them!"  It was a direct order, something I'm not prone to follow anymore.  I'm too much of a rebel (has to do with my childhood, I guess).  But it was Zack:  the strong one, our leader... our big brother.

He had given himself so selflessly.  It was a relief in a way, knowing that Zack couldn't suffer anymore:  he always took care of us like a good older brother.  He was never going to have a normal life because he felt too responsible for us all.  He would never fall in love or settle down...  He wouldn't let himself; it wasn't safe.  So like a good older brother, he took care of us instead.  He took care of me, the littlest, the most.

I can't let that be for nothing.  Zack might not have been able to live the good life, but he had heart.  Now I have his heart, and I have to remember what he told me:  "Fight them Maxie:  promise me you'll fight them.  X-5 599, I have a heart for you."  They were his last words:  he wanted me to have his heart, he wanted me to be able to live, to have the life that he couldn't have.

Logan.  He's back home by now, safe, still fighting the scurge of the galaxy.  He doesn't know that I'm still alive:  he'll be lost without me.  I worry about him, but he has friends to take care of him:  Bling, OC, maybe even Lydecker (odd as that sounds).  Me?  All I have is Zack, and the beep, beep, beep, he gave me.  Not much:  but it will have to be enough.

I'll get out someday.  I'll find Logan, and then we can be together again:  maybe even be happy like I always dreamed we could be.  Either way, it's aiight:  it's all good.  This girl's still got some fight in her left.

"Fight them, Maxie... promise me you'll fight them."

I promise.  
   
   
 

"Fight them, Maxie: promise me you'll fight them."

  
   
   
   
It took me a while to realize that he was standing in front of me.  Colonel Donald Lydecker:  Manticore antagonist and defector.  I didn't trust him.  Even more, I didn't want him in my house:

"What do you want?" I spat.  He sat down calmly:

"I came to see how you are," he told me, perfectly reasonable.

"I feel like hell," I told him:  "Thanks for bringing it up."  He didn't reply at first.

"It's time to get up, son," he finally told me.

"I'm not one of your kids," I replied.  "You can't tell me what to do."  I stood up, moved to the window and stared out into the darkness:  it was raining, as if the sky was crying the tears that I couldn't.

"I am not your enemy," he broke the silence.  I had been hoping that he'd take a hint and leave, but then, Donald Lydecker never was too good at that.

"I disagree," I told him.

"They would have killed you," he emphasized.

"I'm beginning to think that would have been a good idea."

"And what would Max say?"  I froze:

"You leave her out of this," my voice dripped with hate.  He followed me into the kitchen, watched as I opened the cupboard with the wine.

"How can I?" he asked me.  "Isn't she what all of this is about?"  I slammed a bottle onto the counter, turned to face him:

"Stop," I told him:  slowly... deliberately.  "You don't know what it's like."

"Don't I?" he asked.  "You have no idea what my life has been like."

I wanted to hit him, do anything to release the anger that I felt towards him:  it was his fault, all of it.  But I knew that I couldn't:  revenge never solves anything.  Better to let him live with his mistakes.  So I turned away instead, went to find a glass...  "Max didn't tell you, did she?" he asked.

"Tell me what?" I asked, setting the glass on the counter.  I picked up the bottle again, but he took it away:

"I had someone that I cared about once."  I smiled, but there wasn't any joy or humor behind it:

"I find that hard to believe."  I sobered when I saw his expression:  never had I seen so much emotion in the man.  He almost looked... vulnerable.

"My wife died in my arms, and there wasn't a thing that I could have done about it:  just like there's nothing that you could have done to save Max."  He turned away slightly, uncomfortable.  His gaze fell to the bottle that was in his hands, and he set it aside:  "You're right, you aren't one of my kids:  but Max was, and she loved you.  I don't know you any better than I knew her:  but I do know that she wouldn't want you to waste the rest of your life hiding away in this apartment just because of that one night."  I didn't reply for a long time:  I was too shocked.

"You're right..." I told him at last.  "She wouldn't want me to give up."  I turned away from him too, stared out window.  "I just don't know how to go on without her."

"You get up," he told me.  "You keep fighting.  If you forget how much it hurts, you forget her, too."  He hesitated:  "Don't make the same mistake that I did and try to drink away your pain..." he drifted off.  "Use it instead."

I didn't answer at first:  I was too stunned in a way.  When Max had looked at Lydecker, she had always thought of him as a monster:  so had I.  Suddenly, I couldn't see him like that anymore:  it made me wonder about a lot of things.  If I was wrong about that, what else was I wrong about?  "I'll be in touch," his voice broke my train of thought.

"Yeah..." I turned to say goodbye.  "Thanks," I told the empty room.  He was already gone, but it made me feel better anyway.  "Thanks," I repeated.  
   
   
 

"Fight them, Maxie: promise me you'll fight them."

  
   
   
   
"Rise and shine," she cooed in her singsong voice.  I grimaced, turned to face her.  She smiled down at me:  "I'm glad to see that you're feeling better, 452."

"My name is Max," I told her.  It was the name Zack had given me.

"You'll find that name has no meaning here," she told me as she shook her head.  Her poor imitation of blonde hair didn't move with the motion:  I've never been able to stand people who were fake, and Renfro's sugary sweetness was no different.  "I suggest that you accept what's happened and make it easy on yourself..." she paused:  "452."  I pulled at me restraints, sat up as far as they'd let me:

"My name is Max." I told her.  She just smiled:

"We'll see."  She turned away then, strolled out of the room without another word.  Two men came in now, didn't give me a second glance as they unbuckled the restraints that held me securely to the bed.  I struggled against their strong grasp as they pulled me up out of the bed:  it was no use, I knew, but I did it anyway.  I was too weak to put up any real fight, so I went them when they took me to the lab.  They strapped me to a treadmill, held my arms back as some lab geek came in to hook me up to the machine.  I regarded him with indifference:  after all, I knew the drill.  And then I saw his nametag:

"Victor, huh?"  One of the tough guys twisted my arm, and I turned to him:  "You know, her Royal Highness isn't going to be too happy if her prize transgenic is damaged.  I'd advise you to take it easy before I break your nose."  His buddy laughed at me, loosening his grip just enough:  I took my chance.  Seconds later both goons were laying on the floor with bloody noses, and I was on the floor, too.  Dumb lab geek had tazered me:  I wasn't going to hurt him, but just for that I wouldn't tell him about Jace...  No skin off my back:  that is, until some more goons came in.

They hoisted me off the ground, put me back on the treadmill.  I laugh.

"Think you're funny, 452?"  I try to yank my arm out of his hand but he's too strong:  I'm still weak from surgery and I've just been zapped with who knows how high a voltage.  I lift my chin in defiance and his eyes meet mine:

"My name... is Max."  
   
   
 

"Fight them, Maxie: promise me you'll fight them."

  
   
   
   
It had stopped raining now, but I was still careful as I stepped onto the wet metal.  A couple of days ago I wouldn't have had the strength to come here.  The wounds had been too fresh, and this place now reminded me of her more strongly than any other.  Seattle's Space Needle had once been the city's pride and joy:  people had come from far and wide to see it.  Since the Pulse it had become battered and weatherworn, but it still stood tall.

I sat down carefully, my hand finding the place where Max had sat only days before.  She had seemed so relaxed here, so happy:  I had been scared out of my wits.  No one in their right mind would come here, it was too easy to fall...  So I thought:  Max never worried about such things.  Sometimes I think that her dna must have made her fearless...  Maybe it was just the fact that she was strong enough to subdue a man twice her size; there wasn't much in the world that she  _needed_  to fear.

They couldn't find her grave:  Krit and Syl, I mean.  They went back to look, but Manticore had been evacuated and there wasn't a new grave with her in it.  I know she's still alive.  Syl tells me I'm crazy, but Krit:  I think he understands.

Zack is alive somewhere, wasn't injured that badly, so they're going to try and find their brothers and sisters, then try and find him so they can get him out.  They won't let them get to him the way Zack and Max let them get to Brin.  Krit told me he'd look for Max, too, before he left:  she's in good hands, but I'll be looking, too. I don't care what they say, I know that she's alive and is out there somewhere; I can feel it.


End file.
